


Glow, my heart

by ko_writes



Series: Fandot Creativity Night - 09/05/15 [3]
Category: Cabin Pressure, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Colours, Electrocution, Fandot Creativity, M/M, Martin Crieff Whump, Martin Whump, Re-Education, Seizures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-03-29 19:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3907990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ko_writes/pseuds/ko_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: 'Connection' and/or 'colour'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

   Martin busied himself clearing up the debris on the coffee table. Ugh, lab interns; he'd have to speak to Diego _again_! They weren't being productive!

   The radio crackled to life, as it always did when Desert Bluffs' voice was about to speak. He sighed, he didn't want to listen to the radio right now!

 _"Hello, listeners,"_ Kevin's voice greeted, _"Something... wonderful is happening. All the way through our little town, people have started glowing different colours! Strexcorp has said that if two people's colours match, they're soulmates!"_ Squeaks of delight came over the broadcast, the romantic that he was, _"Like, right now, Diego and I are both a beautiful, sunny shade of yellow!"_

   Martin sighed. He wasn't glowing, which was just typi -

   Oh. Oh no, he was. He was glowing a beautiful shade of purple.

   He tried all that afternoon to find someone who matched, but didn't.

   What he didn't know was Night Vale had the same predicament. He didn't know that one Douglas Richardson was also glowing that beautiful purple hue.


	2. Company picnic

   Martin pouted, careful not to let anyone see, as he surveyed the company picnic. He missed Desert Bluffs...

   Letting your smile drop is very dangerous for Strex employees.

   The electricity is never something you get used to, Martin would reflect later, it is something you should come to expect.

   His body spasmed as the collar corrected his behaviour; a portable re-education method that was, of course, efficient.

   "Help! Help me hold him down!" A voice ordered, but Martin felt he was hearing it from underwater.

   Big, warm hands held him down on his side until he finished flailing. When his vision swam back, he was gazing at a mature face, but not to mature, with clover lips and concerned brown eyes.

   He managed to push himself to his elbows, but flopped on his stomach and vomited, a smile sticking to his lips that refused to budge.

   Martin grinned, he wouldn't be able to stop for a while. "Thank you, citizen!" He chirped cheerfully as blood dripped down his check.

   The man frowned, "Why are you so cheerful? You just had a seizure!"

   "I'm fine, my fault!" Martin giggled and sat jerkily up, "Strex employees must always be cheerful after all!"

   "Ugh, another mindless drone!" The man groaned, "Do you even have a name?"

   "Martin!" Martin beamed, "And what is yours?"

   He could feel the artificial brightness filtering into his mind every second, he needed this man's name before his awareness clouded.

   "They call me D," The older man snorted.

   "D. So lovely!" Martin beamed.

   "Fuck off, Robot!" The older man scowled, "And what is the deal with the blood? You guys are soaked in it!"

   The 'Smiling God' took over, "Fashion!"

   "Fashion?" D gaped, he knew those guys were fucked up but that was just -

   "Back to work, citizen! We need to be productive!" The ginger sang.

   "You had a seizure, you should take a break -"

   "No," 'Martin' drew out in a teasing tone, "Hard work is important! More important than life itself!"

   D just frowned, sighing and got up. He began to walk away, but paused, "Don't let them control them like this," he advised with a sideways glance, then continued work.

   'Martin' was jerked to his feet, like a marionette, and staggered to his own work, stupid grin still coating his lips like thick treacle but his black eyes were empty.


	3. Chapter 3

   Martin had learned his lesson now; he'd gotten a caution from his superiors saying that they would need to send him on a 'training course' if he didn't act happier; so he was going to strive to be almost as cheerful as their beloved voice, Kevin.

   Now, he was taking the introduction with those who worked in radio communications; so the people who radioed the police and other emergency services, the people in the control tower of Randy Newman Memorial Night Vale Airport and other such sectors.

   "Hello everyone!" Martin beamed, "I'm Martin and I'm going to be managing the radio communications of The Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area; so I'm going to be your new boss!"

  "Can we call you Marty?" One of the women asked, a teasing tone to her voice.

   Martin laughed, light and overly practised, before answering, voice sharp as a blade, "No. Not by any means."

   They shut up then.

   "I was named one of the most productive of Strexcorp employees, so our magnificent leaders have given me the opportunity to work with you - a great pleasure! We will work together to aid the Smiling God!"

   "Our God is not a smiling God," announced a familiar voice from the back of the room.

   "Oh... I see we have a party pooper!" Martin sang, "Don't be shy, we can have a nice little talk!"

   "No, we can't!" The voice announced as the man it belonged to stood up; D. His hair was a mess, his clothes torn and muddy and he had bandages around his arm and left wrist. "Hello again."

   "Ooh! Hi, D!" He grinned, "But you must understand; your old God was... fine 'n' all, but now you worship a smiling God, a benevolent God."

   "No, we worship our Gods! Religious oppression is disgusting, you droid!" D spat.

   Martin knew he was right, God he knew it. _Please be quiet D, your going to get me and yourself into trouble_. "Now, D; we need to get to work. This is a casual environment, but we need _results_ ," Martin smiled.

   Martin turned to begin his day's working hours when he heard a more sober voice, "You know I'm right, don't you?"

   He laughed again, smile growing across his cheeks into an almost grotesque twist. "I don't know what you mean..."

   "You do," D urged.

   "You should get to work D..." Martin stated.

   "But -"

   At that moment, the door burst open to reveal the Strex 'picnic' officials.

   "Is everything alright, Martin?" The leader asked with a stretched smile.

   "Y-yes, sir!" Martin chirped.

   "I don't think it is," The other man carolled, "I think you're not valuing the Smiling God anymore..."

   "I am!" Martin squeaked, while D watched the interaction curiously.

   "We don't think so. Come on, Martin; to the training course!" The man instructed, as one would a dog.

   Martin's smile fell. "Not the training course! Please! No!" He begged.

   "Martin, smile..." The man's voice was low, contrasting the grin still on his features.

   "No, no, no; not the training - AH!!!"

   A scream was torn from Martin's throat as his collar corrected him. He clawed at it with shaking hands as he collapsed to the floor.

   He blacked out.


	4. It's a good thing

   Martin hadn’t been the same since returning, Douglas knew that. He was thinner, the jagged Glasgow Grin deeper, his eyes bleeding, and that sickening smile sticking to his lips like caramel.

   He was… worried. No, not worried; concerned. It was only normal, he _was_ a human being.

   He doesn’t see Martin eat or drink in the breakroom, even though his throat _has_ to be sore from over use. Martin sits, and smiles at the wall with StrexCorp’s logo looming on its sickly yellow.

   He has had enough. Whatever they did to the man – no, boy really – it was bad, and he was going to help his superior out of it.

   “Martin?” He inquires, taking a seat next to him in the breakroom.

   “Oh! Hello! Who are you?” Martin chirps, smile wider than it should be on his thin face.

   Douglas, for some reason, feels crushed. “It’s D… We’ve met,” Douglas frowns.

   “D…? Is that a name?” Martin laughs, but it’s light and lilting, not malicious.

   “It’s more of a nickname,” He smiles softly.

   “I’m sorry, but I don’t recall anyone called D,” Martin beams artificially, with a sweet shrug, “Sorry.”

   Douglas doesn’t try to remind him. Strex obviously have re-education in form of a ‘training course’, like they have a work camp in the form of a ‘company picnic’.

   “Doesn’t matter,” He waved away, “It’s just that you don’t seem well. You’re bleeding a lot and you seem rather thin.”

   “Don’t worry about me, D,” Martin giggles, but it seems high and _wrong_ , “It’s a good thing.”

   And that hurts. Douglas can’t answer, so he gets up and leaves – runs away.

   How long until Strex does that to him?


End file.
